


Slow Fire

by the_gabih



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha Mercedes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Knotting, Omega Sylvain, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Canon, Vaginal Sex, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24995923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_gabih/pseuds/the_gabih
Summary: After the war, Mercedes has a proposition for Sylvain.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 14
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

The note is slipped under his door before he wakes up: _'Please see me in the infirmary as soon as possible. -M'_

The handwriting is neat, with small looping flourishes, and there's a little flower drawn curling round the corner of the paper. It's almost enough to make him not be paranoid about what exactly it is Mercedes wants to see him for.

Almost.

Is there an STI doing the rounds again? he wonders, as he tugs a blanket back over his head to block out the light. Maybe. It's not outside the realm of possibility- there's a war on, or at least there was until last week. Everyone's been fucking everyone, first with stress and the idea that they all might die very soon, then with relief that they might not.

But no, he's been careful. Probably not that.

Has he- wonder of wonders- got someone pregnant? he muses, shuffling blearily through the dining hall to try and find some breakfast that doesn't make him want to throw up, and absolutely not putting off the trip to the infirmary. Again, almost certainly not. The omegas he had fucked, he'd used protection with, and in any case, an omega knocking up another omega is so rare as to be almost the stuff of legend.

Did the last girl go to her to complain, instead of Ingrid? Maybe. Come to think of it, there's probably more than a few people around who have Sylvain on their shit list, and who know who his friends are. But why Mercedes? She's an alpha, sure, but she's also an absolute sweetheart who Sylvain had once thought wouldn't hurt a fly, until a mercenary had leveled his crossbow at Annette six years ago and been promptly burned for his troubles. And off the battlefield, she's as sweet as ever, almost as though trying to counteract the vast pits of trauma shared by the rest of the Lions.

So. Probably not a revenge plot, infection, or unwanted pregnancy. Maybe she just wants tea? By this point, Sylvain is slumped over a table in the shade of a courtyard tree, with a throbbing headache but a stomach slightly more inclined towards fluids that aren't alcohol. He still stinks of sex, but he's pretty sure the rest of the guys are used to that from him by now. Whatever it is, he may as well get it out of the way, and then go the fuck back to bed.

It's mid-afternoon by the time he knocks on her door, and even after all this time, he's still half expecting the M inside to be Manuela. But instead, Mercedes' bright voice rings out: "Come in!"

He pushes the door slowly to, running an awkward hand through his hair. He'd made himself mostly presentable on the way up- he even managed to get all his buttons in the right holes, after his first dismal attempt this morning- but with Mercedes looking like the human incarnation of sunshine and roses, he still feels kinda inadequate. "Uh. Hi. You, uh, wanted to see me?"

"I did! Thank you so much for coming, I was a bit worried you hadn't got my note."

Sylvain flushes. Most alphas would make their displeasure known with a display of force. Mercedes doesn't need to. A few words in her sweet voice are more terrifying than hours of yelling from a knothead. "Yeah, sorry. I was kinda. Busy? Just, y'know. Not feeling great."

Mercedes' brows pull together slightly in an expression of concern that makes Sylvain's heart do a little flutter in his chest. "Right, of course. That was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about- do take a seat, Sylvain." She gestures to one of the beds, rather than the chairs by the table, but Sylvain knows when he's beaten. He does what he's told. Maybe this is about a health thing after all. But what? Sexual health seems unlikely, and she'd already checked on the chest wound from Enbarr a few days ago and said it was healing fine.

"Shh. Don't try to think too much until you've had this." Mercedes reappears in front of him, holding a small phial of liquid. It smells vile, but when Sylvain looks up to ask what it is, Mercedes is wearing a bright, encouraging smile, which is enough to make him down it without question, even though he almost chokes. "Don't worry," she says, holding out a cup of water while winces his way through swallowing it. "It's just something to get all the unpleasant stuff out of your system."

"Right," Sylvain says, when he can trust himself to open his mouth without gagging again. "Right. Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Drink your water."

Sylvain does. His head is already feeling clearer, and when he gulps the water down, he can feel the headache and nausea beginning to recede. It's such a relief, he almost fails to notice the faint click of the key being turned in the door lock. He looks round to see Mercedes smiling at him again as she steps back towards the bed, holding out the hand with the key in it.

"I just thought we could use a little bit of privacy for this. But if you want to leave at any point, you can do. Okay? It's your choice, Sylvain. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Sylvain squints at her confusedly, though he takes the key with a sudden rare surge of self defensiveness. "Why...?"

"Hm. I suppose it'll be easier if I begin at the beginning, won't it?" Mercedes takes a seat on the bed opposite him, her hands folded demurely in her lap. Anyone walking past would think their assignations were entirely the opposite- that Sylvain was every inch the messy jackass of an alpha he pretends to be, and that Mercedes was the patient, forgiving omega willing to put up with his shit.

Except she doesn't do much of that. Tends to be more inclined towards calling him on it. He loves her for it, but it's a bit much- and she's got the 'calling him out' face on now. Fuck. He swallows.

"Whatever Alyssa told you, it... okay, it's probably true, I was a jerk. But trust me, I've had this lecture from Ingrid, like, a hundred times over by now. I'm good."

"I very much doubt she's had this particular conversation with you, Sylvain," Mercedes says gently. "Considering she tends to prefer women."

Sylvain blinks as his brain comes to a sudden, juddering halt. There's no link he can see between Ingrid telling him off for breaking omegas' hearts and the fact that she's mated to Dorothea- unless maybe the reason she was always so mad about him was on behalf of the trail of female victims he'd left in his wake? "I don't..."

"Shh. I'll be a little clearer. You're an omega. I can see why you've put so much effort into hiding your status, but I also don't think it's doing you any good."

Okay, his brain was still running before. Now though, it does a full-on crash into a wall. "What? That- that's not..."

Mercedes puts a hand to his knee, her thumb stroking across it gently. The skin feels alight where she's touching it, like something's unfurling inside at the contact. The room, on the other hand, feels suddenly much smaller.

"Sylvain," she says, her voice the kind of gentle that undoes him. Which is quite frankly rude, to use something she knows is his weakness like that, except that it's Mercedes, and the sympathy rolling off her couldn't be anything but genuine. "I understand," she tells him. "I do. But I can't stand to see you hurting yourself like this."

Sylvain swallows. "I know what I'm doing," he retorts. "The suppressants-"

"-aren't the issue. You deserve to have control over whether or not you get pregnant. I'm not going to deny you that. But Sylvain, pushing people away with sex kept you safe this far, but what's it doing to you now, hm? Aren't you tired?"

"Huh?" And to think, he'd thought he had a decent brain. He's not following this conversation at all. "I mean, yeah, I guess. Didn't get much sleep last night."

Mercedes shakes her head. "That's not what I mean. You're one of the kindest people I know. We wouldn't have got through the war- any of it- without you. You are our bedrock, Sylvain. So many people go to you to get things off their chest, because they know you'll understand. But when was the last time you let yourself be honest with them in return?"

Sylvain just sort of. Stares at her. None of this is computing, even with the clearer head- at least, not consciously. Deep inside, though, something feels like it's shifting, itching to get out, and he swallows hard against it. "C'mon, Mercie. I cried all over you, like, two months ago."

"You did," she nods. "You were honest with me then. You did so well- I can only imagine how difficult it was, after a lifetime of not being able to talk about it."

"Okay, but like. Why the fuck do you want to hear about it?"

"I could have asked you the same question, when we talked about- about Emile." Her voice has gone softer still, hitching slightly on her brother's name. Sylvain had been the one to find her after Fort Merceus. Where other alphas might have raged, she had let him tug her against his side without a murmur of complaint, let him stroke her hair while she sobbed. "Why would you want to hear about someone who had only ever tried to kill you?"

"Because it was you," Sylvain says, frowning, like the answer is obvious, because it is. "Because he was- is important to you."

"Well," Mercedes says, offering him a slightly smaller smile. "There you have it. You are important to me, Sylvain. That makes the things that are important to you important to me, too."

"Aw, Mercie," Sylvain says, blinking hard against the dampness in his eyes. "You're gonna make me blush."

Mercedes hums and reaches over to put a hand to his cheek, her thumb moving now to stroke away the tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. Fucking sleep deprivation. "That would look good on you, I think."

"It would look-?" Sylvain stammers.

"Good on you," Mercedes says, and he realizes suddenly that she's leaning in very close. "Although that's not saying a great deal- a lot of things would. You're a very handsome man, Sylvain."

Sylvain isn't sure if he's having a religious experience, a breakdown, or the experience of being thrown from his horse in slow motion while sitting completely still. Possibly all three. He blinks at Mercedes, trying very hard to come up with an appropriately witty rejoinder. It's not like it's hard. He's done it loads of times before.

"Thanks," he says eventually. "Uh. You too? I mean, not- you're not a man, obviously. And I'd maybe say beautiful, rather than handsome. But if you prefer handsome, that's okay too! You're, like. Everything good."

Nailed it. Mercedes laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound in the world. It's a shame she's not interested, or he'd spend the rest of his life making her laugh like that every day. "Oh, Sylvie, thank you. I do try."

Honestly, he can probably just take the memory of her saying that to his grave and be content. He offers her a lopsided smile and is about to follow up with something equally eloquent when she beats him to the punch. "Anyway. What I brought you here to say is- and please don't think I'm being presumptuous," she adds quickly. "Like I said, the last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable. But I thought that maybe, now the war is over, you might want to try something different. With me."

"With- wait. What- what kind of thing are we talking about, here?"

"A relationship," Mercedes explains, still gently, as though she's talking to a spooked horse. "It doesn't have to be a full mating, not if you're not comfortable being out just yet. But I would be your alpha, for as long as you would have me."

Sylvain stares. Then he blinks. Then he stares some more. "But why would you want that?"

Mercedes' smile is radiant. He wants to memorize each curve of her lips, the slight dimple in her cheek. "Because," she says simply. "It's you."


	2. Chapter 2

There's not much time to think over the next week or so, which Sylvain supposes is a mercy. (Hah.) He wanders after Felix, after Ingrid, after Dimitri, whoever needs his hands or his brain while everyone floods back up north for the coronation. It feels perverse, wandering the streets of Fhirdiad organizing a parade while Enbarr and Derdriu lie in ruins, but he throws himself into it anyway.

"Think it over," Mercedes had said. "I don't need your answer right now. But whatever you decide, I hope you know you'll still have me as a friend. That much will never change."

He holds her words close to his heart through long meetings with disgruntled nobles, until Felix kicks him under the table and tells him to get his mind out the gutter and focus already.

It's not in the gutter, though. It's in the stars. Or rather, in a backlit infirmary room, where sunlight haloes around Mercedes' golden hair and over her soft, scarred hands. She'd touched him so gently; his knee, his arm, the faintest brush of a kiss against the top of his head. Usually he'd have taken the opportunity to look down her shirt, but just then, all he'd wanted to do was close his eyes and breathe in the faint scent of medicinal herbs on her hands and berry tea on her breath.

He'd never felt so safe as he had in that moment. He wishes he could capture the feeling and keep it forever, but his hands are big and clumsy and tend to break things. Or, no, that's not strictly true, he tells himself, sitting by his window in lieu of sleeping the night before the coronation, because he can't lie to himself when it's Mercedes. He knows how to hold a delicate thing safely, theoretically speaking. It's just that sometimes he gets scared, or angry, and he breaks it because he can. Because it's safer than breaking himself open and allowing someone to burrow inside to where the rot sits.

But it's never felt like that with Mercedes. Whatever they've talked about, whatever he tells her, afterwards it feels like bed sheets washed and hung to dry in the sunlight. Like a soft warmth settling in around the edges, blunting the sharpest ones, just a little. Because she's seen so much of him- not the worst, maybe, but much more than he's let most people see- and all she did in return was smile, and thank him, and talk about her darkness too.

Which is why he finds himself padding along the hallway. It's dead quiet, after the bustle of the day; a moment of calm before the storm descends. He's sure the seamstresses and cooks aren’t enjoying the peace as much. He'll have to make sure they get something special, after the coronation. For now, he overcomes the urge to turn tail and flee in favor of knocking, ever so lightly, at Mercedes' door, torn between the dual hope that she's sleeping and won't hear him and that she'll let him in.

He doesn't hear anything for several long moments, and he's about to give into his cowardice and turn tail when he hears the door handle move. Slowly, the door is pulled to reveal Mercedes, wearing an old linen nightgown and crocheted shawl and looking every bit as radiant as she ever has. Her smile, when she sees Sylvain, lights up her face as she ushers him inside.

"You couldn't sleep either, hm?"

"I, uh. No. Not really. Lots to think about."

Seiros, really? He used to have such a way with words. He's charmed half the omegas from here to Enbarr and then north to Gautier into his bed. Why is this so hard?

Mercedes, oblivious to Sylvain's inner monologue, puts a hand to his lower back and nudges him gently towards a low couch. "There certainly is. You know, there were times I thought tomorrow would never come."

"Yeah. Me too. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd have fought for Dimitri until my last breath, but..."

"It did look a bit touch and go sometimes, didn't it?" Mercedes takes a seat next to him and squeezes his hand gently. "But I don't think you came here to talk about that."

"I- okay, no, you got me." Sylvain shoves his other hand up into the hair at the back of his head. "Um. I've been thinking about what you said."

Mercedes nods. "And about the part where I said there was no pressure, and that we would still be friends whatever you chose?"

"Uh. Yeah? I mean. I was kinda hung up on the whole 'I'll be your alpha' bit, if I'm honest, more than anything. But that too. You really- I mean. You want that? You want- me?"

When he looks over, Mercedes' eyes are wide and soft and bright in the light of the fire. "Absolutely. You are one of the bravest, kindest people I have had the privilege of calling a friend, and," she says, the soft brightness turning into a more mischievous twinkle as she gives him a look up and down. "You're really rather lovely to look at, too."

Sylvain feels heat rising in his cheeks. It's not the first time he's been told he's good-looking, the empty flattery had flown from both sides before. But it is- okay, the second time someone whose opinion he actually cares about has said as much. The first if you don't count the infirmary. "Yeah. I- thanks. I just... I'm a mess. A hot mess, maybe, but a massive fucking mess. And I'm scared." He swallows hard, and dares to meet her gaze again. It's as steady and constant as ever. "I'm scared I'll fuck it up. 'Cause I don't want to. But I'm really, really good at fucking things up."

Mercedes' thumb strokes over the back of his hand. "Hm. I can understand that. Do you mind if I tell you a secret?"

"Huh?" Sylvain blinks. "Uh. Yeah, shoot."

"I'm scared, too. I don't want to let you down, either- and I know what you're going to say," she tells him, putting the index finger of her free hand to his mouth before he can get the words out. "You don't think I will. But it's a big responsibility, being someone's alpha. I don't want to hurt you. I think that would rip me apart, if I did. And I might. Even if I don't want to. Even if I don't mean to."

"But that's the thing, you wouldn't mean it," Sylvain presses. "You're all sweet and sensitive and stuff."

"As are you," Mercedes says, still smiling. "I think, between the two of us, even if we do make a mistake, we can work through it, together. If, of course, you want to?"

"Yeah," Sylvain breathes, the word more an instinct than anything. He'd say yes to anything Mercedes asked of him, he thinks. "Yeah, I- I want this. I want you. However you'll have me. Whatever you want."

If he thought her smile was radiant before, it's incandescent now. She puts a hand to his cheek, cradling his face gently. "Oh, Sylvain. I- I'll admit, I was hoping to be a little more eloquent here. But yes. _Yes_. Whatever you're comfortable with. We can go as slow as you like."

Sylvain shakes his head. "I want- I mean, we don't have to. But I thought...if you wanted to, you could claim me tonight. Before... I dunno. It seemed... nice, I guess? To have the new beginning for Faerghus, for Fodlan, and also- also this."

"I would love that. But it- I know you haven't had a chance to talk to your father yet," she says slowly, as though the mention of him might send Sylvain running. "I don't want to jeopardize anything for you."

Another shake of the head. Sylvain looks over at her, into her eyes, and maintains that contact as he slowly slides off the couch and lowers himself to kneel at her feet. "I want you," he says again, his voice gone hoarse around the edges. "Want everyone to know I'm yours. Please."

Mercedes leans forward, running both her hands through his hair with a touch that's so reverent Sylvain feels like a piece of porcelain on the verge of breaking. "Sylvie," she murmurs. "My Sylvain. My good boy."

The praise, the touch- barely a week ago he was fucking someone into the mattress, and yet it's this which has him coming undone. These feather light brushes of Mercedes' gentle fingers. The way her lips feel against his forehead, against his brow, against his cheeks, against his mouth. He opens up for her eagerly, and her grip on his hair turns firm as she manoeuvres him up into a deep kiss.

It's softer than he’s used to. She’s softer than he’s used to. His usual thing is a quick, dirty rendezvous, up against a wall or, occasionally, stumbling back to bed, no time for exploration or anything that might risk them noticing that Sylvain, too, is slick between the legs. He’d usually take control and hurry things along, but this feels good. Mercedes’ hands are gentle but strong, and his whole body seems to unwind somewhere deep down at the knowledge that she’s got him. Right here, right now, he’s not the one calling the shots. He can let her explore his mouth, his hair, whatever she wants at her leisure.

Eventually she pulls back, a hand still fisted firmly in Sylvain’s hair while the other strokes over his cheek again. They spend a long moment like that, Sylvain’s eyes wide with arousal and the eagerness to please as Mercedes’ soft gaze runs over him. “So handsome,” she murmurs again, her hand trailing down to his neck and making him shiver as it nudges below his collar. “I wonder what you’ll look like without these.”

It occurs to Sylvain that technically, she already knows; she’s spent six years on and off patching him up, after all. But all that means is that she knows him, that she’s seen every scar, every ragged edge of his body and still thinks him handsome. Still wants to see him with the lights on, still wants to touch him.

At least, he really hopes she does.


	3. Chapter 3

Her fingertips brush lower down over his scent gland, and he arches up instinctively into the touch. She hums, pleased. “Eager little thing, aren’t you? I suppose I’d better give you something to do for me. Would you take your shirt off please, Sylvain?”

Sylvain nods, the movement hampered by the way she’s still gripping his hair, and hurries to obey. His fingers fumble with the buttons- it’s not like he hasn’t done this a hundred times before, but this feels different, somehow. Like there’s something at stake if he gets it wrong.

But he wants to be good. He wants to be good for Mercedes, not just for tonight, but for as long as she'll have him. He doesn't- he can't think too far ahead or he'll get even dizzier than he's already feeling, but he doesn't want to wake up alone tomorrow, he knows that much.

Eventually, he shrugs off the shirt, tugging it sharply over his wrists and down to the ground before looking up to meet her gaze. "Good boy," she tells him again, and the words send a warm, pleased shiver down his spine that sings all the way back up again when her free hand strokes down over his collarbone to feel out the muscles of his shoulders. "Look at you. So handsome."

Sylvain's heart does a funny little flutter in his chest. He kind of wants to preen. He swallows instead. "What would you like?"

Mercedes blinks. "Hmn?"

"I mean, what would you like from me?" he amends quickly. "I, uh. I wanna make you feel good."

Mercedes' face softens. "What I would like," she tells him, "is for you to do exactly as I say. Can you do that for me, Sylvie?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Yeah, definitely. Anything you want."

"Good. And part of that means that if there's anything you don't like, or don't want to do, I need you to tell me. Okay?"

"Okay," he repeats, nodding again. It's fine. He doesn't have much in the way of limits. But his response just seems to make her frown.

"I do mean that. If there is anything I do that makes you at all uncomfortable, or which hurts, you will tell me. If I'm going to be your alpha, I need to learn how to look after you, whether that's while we're alone, or out there."

Something in Sylvain's gut feels weirdly squirmy. Does she really need to make such a big deal out of this? "Yeah. Of course. I get it."

"I'm not altogether sure that you do." She shifts forward in her seat, her thighs widening to bracket Sylvain's arms, and the nearness of her is enough to make all his hairs stand on end. He wants to see what she looks like underneath, wants to bury himself in her and just never leave, but he'll follow her lead on this. "What I'd like you to do is show me what makes you feel good."

"What makes me-" Sylvain stammers, feeling his cheeks heat. "You mean, when I'm, uh, on my own?"

"Or when other people touch you, yes."

Hm. Okay. Well, he usually tends to just get straight to business when it's him, and he doesn't tend to let people touch him too much in case they get their hands down between his legs and find the slick there. But he knows where other people usually like to be touched, and above all, he knows how to put on a show. He wets his lips, looking up at her with what he hopes is a sultry gaze as he reaches down to undo the buttons of his trousers.

"What about the rest of you, hm?"

Sylvain blinks. "Huh?"

Mercedes tilts her head, looking him over in a way Sylvain can't read. "Does no one take the time to explore the rest of you, too?"

"Well, I, uh. I tend to kind of- I mean, some of them do," Sylvain offers. If he had to guess, he'd say Mercedes was upset, going by the furrow in her brow. He just doesn't get why. "Just that most of the time it's all pretty quick, y'know?"

"I see." The brow furrow is still there. Sylvain is about to try and say something else when Mercedes shifts her weight forwards; he arches back instinctively, and the look of upset on her face only seems to get stronger. "Shh. I'm not angry with you. You've done nothing wrong. I just think it's a shame that no one seems to have taken the time to find what makes you feel good."

"I mean," Sylvain says, with a lopsided attempt at a smile. "The fucking felt pretty good?"

Mercedes laughs and moves down so that she's kneeling in front of him. It's a very un-alpha way of doing things. Sylvain had kind of been expecting to have his head in her lap already, not this. He's still trying to parse through exactly what she's doing when she leans in towards his shoulder and- oh. Marking already, huh? Good thing she's enthusiastic.

Except that no teeth sink into his glands. Instead, soft lips brush against the corner of his jawline, and he starts a little at the unexpected feeling. She presses another kiss to his cheek, then, and after that she draws back a little, her eyes flicking over his face.

"May I kiss you?"

"Think you just did," Sylvain reminds her, mostly just to try and counter his surprise by being a bit of a brat. It's a nice, easy reflex to fall back on. "But y'know, if you wanna do it again, I definitely wouldn't say no."

She smiles then, small and soft. Sylvain's adding it to the little points tally in his head when she leans in again, tilting her head just slightly so that their lips meet this time, and oh. The kiss is chaste by his standards; closed mouthed and light, her mouth barely pushing against the chapped skin of his own, but he swears he can feel it shivering out through every part of his body. Then she does it again, and again, and honestly, he'd be very happy if this was all they ever did.

But then her free hand settles on the join of his neck and shoulder, right over his scent gland, and he shivers again. He doesn't usually let anyone near it, but her gentle touch feels as though it was made for it, stroking lightly over the skin and down to run over the tightly corded muscles of his shoulder.

"You carry so much on these," she murmurs, her breath fanning out over his face. Her eyes are wide and soft and a deep, deep blue, and while Sylvain is physically so much bigger than her, the sweetness of her voice makes him feel small again. Vulnerable in a way he's already growing to like, despite the faint instinctive prickle of misgiving. "Let me look after you for a while."

Her palm flattens against his skin, her hand taking in every curve, every dent, every shift beneath it as Sylvain breathes quiet, hitching breaths. She shifts down from his shoulder to his chest, and then her head moves to follow with light kisses skating over the skin in her hand’s wake. Sylvain feels dizzy, already slick and hot and lightheaded just from these few featherlight touches. When she looks up from his shoulder to ask, “Does this feel okay?” it’s all he can do to nod and hold his position instead of just whimpering and presenting already. His knees ache, but he’s determined to be good.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Feels so good.”

Another of those brilliant smiles. “I’m glad. I want to make you feel good.”

“That really doesn’t take a lot of effort,” Sylvain tells her. “I’m pretty easy.”

“And what if I want to make the effort, hm?”

“I… sure? I mean. If you want.”

“I do. Very much so.” Mercedes shifts back up to kiss him full on the mouth, her plush lips parting and inviting his to do the same. He does, gladly, even though his core and thighs are beginning to ache with the way he’s bending down to meet her.

She must catch the faint tremble in his muscles, because the smile she offers him is a gentle, encouraging one. “You’re doing so well for me,” she murmurs. “You look so beautiful like this, holding your position for so long.”

Sylvain flushes, putty in her hands at the praise. “Thank you,” he mumbles, mostly because he’s not sure how else to react. He’s so fucking wet, it’s embarrassing. She must be able to scent how desperate he is, how good his mind isn’t being as it trips past the feeling of her lips on his and jumps straight ahead to how her cock’s gonna feel in his pussy. But if she can, she’s not letting on.

“I’d like for you to be comfortable, though. Why don’t we move over to the bed?”

Sylvain swallows hard. “I- yeah. I’d like that.” He knows what to do there, at least. Granted, he hasn’t had any hands-on experience with an alpha, but he’s pretty sure he’s got the general gist of how this is supposed to go. He presents, she mounts, they knot, and everyone has a good time, right? Nice and easy.

Mercedes puts a hand back to the couch as she slowly levers herself up off the floor, then offers Sylvain a hand with a small, rueful smile. “I do miss the days when my knees were more willing to cooperate with me.”

Sylvain huffs a laugh, taking hold of her hand and finding its grip surprisingly strong as he, too, gets to his feet. “Yeah. Old age is a killer.”

She’s got such a beautiful laugh. “Mm. Although I’m sure we’ll look back on these complaints in ten years or so and miss the days we had it so good.”

Ten years. Fuck. That’s a long time. And that’s not even- if they mate, it’ll be longer. Sylvain’s never been with anyone more than a week or two before without wrecking it. Mercedes’ hand squeezes gently around his, as though she’s noticed his sudden trip into utter terror and decided to try and catch him before he falls headlong into it. Might not work forever, but he’s willing to let her try for now.

“Remember,” she says gently, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Sylvain nods. “I know,” he says quickly. “I want- I want this. Want you. I promise.”

“And I believe you,” Mercedes says, with a quiet sincerity. She reaches up to cup his cheek in her hand. “I want you, too. I’d like to be as good for you as you’re being for me.”

“Trust me, you’re being way better,” Sylvain assures her.

“It’s not a competition, Sylvain,” she says gently. “And if there’s anything I do that makes you feel bad, I’d like to know about it. I need you to tell me. Can you promise you’ll do that?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

“And if you need me to stop at any point?”

Sylvain swallows. “Yeah?”

Mercedes gives him a searching look, her eyes flicking across his face. “Alright,” she says eventually. “I trust you. Come on, let’s give our old bones a rest, shall we?”

Something squirms guiltily in Sylvain’s stomach as he follows her to the bed, which is an odd feeling when combined with the fluttering in his chest at the feel of her hand in his. It’s not like he lied. He wants to be good. He’ll tell her whatever she wants him to say. But he’s never told anyone to stop doing something in his life. He’s not sure he’d know how.


	4. Chapter 4

He decides to distract himself from the idea for a bit. Mercedes’ bedroom is surprisingly cosy for a palace room, with a soft-looking blanket draped over the four poster and cushions on the chairs. “You’ve been busy,” Sylvain says, looking around at the paintings hanging on the walls; landscapes and flowers, thankfully. He’s not sure he could handle having someone- even a flat, painted someone- stare at him during… this.

“Thank you,” Mercedes says, smiling warmly. “I think I may have been nesting a little, now that it’s really starting to feel like we’re at peace. Is that strange?”

Sylvain shakes his head, following her the last few steps to the bed. “No, I get it. Building a space for the future, right? And for- for whatever else comes up,” he adds. No one’s said anything about _nesting_ nesting.

“I’m so glad you understand.” She puts a hand to his chest before he can crawl onto the mattress and avoid her gaze by trying to get himself all alluring and pretty on there. “Just one more thing: I assume you don’t want children just yet?”

Sylvain blinks, more than a little thrown by the question. “I, uh…”

“Based on what you’ve said in the past, about people wanting your crest. I thought… well. If you do want them, it’s easy enough to reverse, it just takes a little while. But I wanted you to know, I’ve been taking a potion for the last few weeks that should mean I’m very unlikely to get you pregnant tonight.”

“You…?”

“Like I said, if you do want children, we can talk about that another time. But right now, I didn’t want you to worry I was taking advantage of you for anything. Is that okay?”

“Is that- you-” Sylvain genuinely doesn’t know what to do with that information. His heart does an odd flutter in his chest, something like- relief? Disappointment, maybe? He’s spent so many years trying to ignore it, he can’t tell. But the fact that she’d thought of that, the fact that he’d poured his heart out to her and she’d listened and remembered and made plans based on that… He blinks hard a few times. Fuck, his hormones are all over the place right now. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s- that’s good, I… thank you.”

Mercedes puts a gentle finger to his lips. “Shh. You don’t need to thank me. I just wanted you to know that, wherever this goes, I’m not going to use you. Not for your crest, not for children, not for anything. I want to make you happy, Sylvain. I want to be happy with you.”

Okay, this time he can’t quite stop a tear escaping. He swallows hard around the lump in his throat, and Mercedes shifts her hand from his mouth to his cheek to brush the tear gently away. She leans forward and the press of her body against his is soft, grounding. He reaches a shaky hand up to settle on her hips and she gives a low hum in response.

“That… yeah,” he stammers, once he can trust himself to speak again. “I’d like that. Please.”

Mercedes’ smile is wide and soft and when she leans in to kiss him again, he cranes down to meet her. “Sylvain,” she murmurs against his lips. “Such a good boy. _My_ good boy.”

Sylvain whimpers. “Please,” he says again. “Want you. Want you inside me.”

“And you’ll have me,” Mercedes promises. “Anything you want. You only ever need to ask, Sylvie.”

Sylvain nods in response, then gasps, arching up against Mercedes as her hand snakes down between his legs to cup him gently. The sound trails off into another whimper, and Mercedes strokes his cheek again. “I love the sounds you make,” she tells him, leaning in for another long, slow kiss while she grinds up against him. She must feel how wet he is now, how desperately he wants her, even through his pants.

“Oh, look at you,” she murmurs, with the kind of reverence she normally saves for prayer. Sylvain flushes; he can’t help but squirm. She kisses his cheek again, then his neck, her mouth trailing slowly down in soft brushes of her lips. “Let’s go to bed, shall we?”

Sylvain doesn’t need any more encouragement than that; he lets his legs give way and sits down heavily on the edge of the mattress. Mercedes lowers herself down atop him with much more grace, and Sylvain has to bite back a whine as her weight settles in his lap. Fuck, she feels so perfect. So soft, when he settles his hands on her waist, and where her thick thighs rest atop his own. She kisses him again, winding her hands through his hair in a way that’s firm but undemanding, almost combing out the tangles rather than asserting anything over him.

Sylvain feels like he could melt.

“You are marvellous,” Mercedes murmurs, between kisses. “You feel so strong under me. I’d quite happily stay like this forever.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sylvain tells her. “So long as you’re the one who answers the door when Felix comes calling.”

Mercedes laughs. “Were you thinking of staying under the covers while I did that, or would you rather a more visual display?”

“A more- oh.” Sylvain can’t help the flush that builds in his cheeks at the idea of Felix seeing- seeing her, seeing _him_ , held and owned and moaning for her in a way he’s never moaned for any girl before. His cock throbs. “Um. Maybe?”

“Mm. I know you’d be good for me, either way.” Mercedes offers him a gentle smile, her fingers brushing against his collarbone and then further down. Her hand settles on his chest to gently cup the muscle on the left-hand side, which fits in her palm as though it was made for it. And then she tilts her head to kiss his neck, and rocks her hips and Seiros, Sylvain’s seeing stars already. His own hips stutter up against hers and he feels slick pool between his thighs.

Mercedes doesn’t tell him off for the over-eagerness. Instead she keeps going, the two of them finding a rhythm that feels less awkward by the moment. “You smell so good, Sylvie,” she breathes. Her teeth brush across his skin. Her breath leaves him shivering in its wake as it puffs out, and when she bites down he can’t stop a helpless moan. It’s not where he needs it- too light, too high up to be a proper mating mark, but his desire surges all the same in response and his legs twitch wider. He can feel her against his abdomen now, the press of her own desire. He wonders what her knot looks like. What it’ll taste like, what it’ll feel like inside him.

Fuck, he’s gonna leave a wet patch before they even get to the main event. Mercedes pulls away as though she’s heard the thought, but rather than the reprimand he’s half-expecting, she reaches down to settle her hands just above the waistline of his pants.

“You’re being so good for me, Sylvie. May I try something?”

Sylvain nods eagerly. Whatever she wants. “Yeah. Anything.”

Mercedes nods, and gives him another quick kiss. “Such a good boy. If I move off you for a moment, would you be able to take your pants off for me?”

Another nod, and Mercedes shifts her weight to the side. Sylvain is quick to reach down, fumbling helplessly with his trousers and his clumsy fingers for several long moments until he can finally wriggle free. There’s nothing underneath, and he almost cringes instinctively away from Mercedes’ gaze. He’s never let anyone else see this much of him in the light before.

But rather than shock or disgust, there’s soft, open wonder on Mercedes’ face as she takes in the view. “Oh, look at you,” she murmurs. “So beautiful, Sylvain. All of you is so lovely to look at. And to touch, too. May I…?”

“Y-yeah.” He’d kind of thought that was a given. He edges his legs back apart, fighting against the urge to slam them shut and run off. They’ve got this far- it seems pretty unlikely she’s gonna turn on him now. He still twitches when her hand settles on his belly, her fingertips trailing through the gradually thickening curls of hair as they move down and she leans over to kiss him again, which means that when her hand brushes against his cock, she gets to swallow up his gasp.

“Is that alright?”

Her brow is furrowed, as though it might not be. Sylvain nods quickly and spreads his thighs, eager for more. “Yeah. Please.”

"Good. I'm glad. I'm going to move a bit further down now. If there's ever a moment where I’m not doing something you like, just let me know, or move my hand or my head where you'd rather I put it, okay?”

"O...kay?"

Wait. Wait, did she say mouth?


	5. Chapter 5

Mercedes smiles at him, and ducks down before he can ask what she meant. She kisses his chest first as her hand strokes over his cock, and Sylvain moans at the feel of it. Fuck. Having someone else touch him there always feels different to doing it himself, but Mercedes’ hand sets off a heat in his belly, a slow fire uncurling from his pussy and radiating out through his body. Her grip on him is firm, the slow stroke timed to coincide perfectly with the way she bites down at his nipple.

Sylvain whines, squirming underneath her. He can feel his own slick even more keenly now, the way it’s pooling on the blankets beneath him, the sticky dampness of it between his legs. And that’s before he feels Mercedes’ fingers slip lower, brushing over soft folds of skin to press against the source. He gasps, his fingers twisting in the sheets as she looks up at him.

“Is that alright?”

Sylvain bites his lip. Nods again, for all that the touch feels strange. He’s never let anyone that far back, never let them see his pussy, let alone touch it. But he wants her to- wants her all over him, inside him, anywhere she wants.

She offers him another bright smile and presses two fingers lightly against his hole. She keeps the pressure light, but even so, it’s not long before Sylvain’s hips are hitching with his attempts to nudge her into touching him deeper. “Such an eager little boy,” Mercedes hums, dipping a fingertip just a little way inside and making him keen. She shifts further down, and it occurs to Sylvain to ask what she’s doing for a moment before she leans down and presses a kiss to the base of his cock.

Sylvain’s back arches again, and then flattens itself back down against the mattress as she draws her tongue up its length. Fuck. Fuck, it’s too much, and yet somehow not enough. “Mercie,” he breathes, his hands clutching at the mattress for purchase until Mercedes gently takes one of them and moves it over to her hair.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs. “My good boy.”

And then her tongue sweeps back down and licks over his hole, and Sylvain is lost. Her finger pushes in deeper, the tip of her tongue feeling almost like it’s chasing it as she coaxes him open, then draws her mouth back up again. She licks between his folds, her tongue flat and wide and so, so good on his cunt, on his cock, on his- on his everything. A second finger nudges up against the first, Sylvain’s heat-slick pussy widening easily to take it, and he rocks down against them both before he remembers he should probably ask.

“Can I-” he pants, unable to remember sentence structures. “I want- please.”

“Of course,” Mercedes tells him. “Whatever makes you feel good, Sylvie.”

Sylvain whimpers and lets himself fall into pleasure. Into his instincts, finally unleashed after years of being carefully held back. He pushes himself down, fucking himself onto his alpha’s fingers. He can do it. He can take her, he can be _good_. He just has to show her how good he can be, how much he wants her knot, how easily he opens up for another finger, and another. She spreads them all wide inside him, and his gasps for air stutter on a moan that can probably be heard from the hallway.

Not that he’s thinking of anyone else right now. Or anything else, beyond Mercedes’ weight between his legs, her fingers buried inside him, her mouth widening around his cock as she bobs her head in time with her hand.

Sylvain’s mouth falls open on a desperate keening noise. “Fuck, Mercedes…”

Mercedes hums, her tongue flicking out more insistently over the tip of his cock before she flattens it and brings it up in a slow sweep from his pussy. Sylvain’s never been so wet in his life, and where his slick mingles with Mercedes’ spit, it feels filthy and so, so good. He’s expecting her to get tired of it after a while, but she just keeps going, broad flat strokes giving way to a slow circling around his dripping wet pussy. Her tongue dips just a little way inside, giving only the vaguest hint of the fullness he’s craving before it retreats up to tease at his lips.

“Mercie,” he whines, and feels an amused hum against his skin in reply. “Please, I need…”

“Hmm?” She looks up at him without moving away, or letting up with the slow, steady motions of her tongue. Sylvain needs a few moments to remember how to put ideas into words again.

“I- hnn. I need- inside. Please.”

Mercedes strokes her hand over his thigh again before she pulls back, just a little. “Good boy. Always so polite.” Sylvain tenses for a moment when her fingertip brushes at his hole, and Mercedes pauses. “Is this okay?”

Sylvain nods. “Yeah. Please. I want it.”

“Okay. But do tell me if it’s uncomfortable, alright?” Another nod from him, and Mercedes smiles, still maintaining steady eye contact as she slowly nudges her finger inside. Sylvain bites his lip and rocks down against her- or tries to, but finds himself brought short by her other hand pressing lightly against his hip. “Uh-uh. We’re going to take this slowly, alright?”

“Yeah,” Sylvain nods, suppressing a dissatisfied whine. Really, he wants to get going already- wants her knot buried in his pussy, her body atop his. Maybe then he’ll feel less flayed open and vulnerable. But this feels good at the same time, despite the frustration, and Mercedes’ hand is grounding. If he wanted to shake her off, he could, but he won’t. He’s gonna be good, because he trusts her. He’s gonna hold himself still and let her push in deeper because so far, she hasn’t done anything but make him feel good.

She pushes her finger in deeper, crooking and stroking gently as he moans. “Have you done this before?”

Sylvain nods. “Y-yeah. A couple, uh. Couple of times.”

“How do you like to do it? Just the one finger, or do you like more?”

“More,” Sylvain confesses, feeling the flush in his cheeks building. “I like… more. It feels good when I, um. When I’m full.”

Mercedes nods. “I’m sure it does. I bet you look so good like that. You certainly do now. Do you think you can take another of my fingers?”

Sylvain nods again, and Mercedes beams at him. Her fingertip feels so delicate where it nudges up alongside the first, nothing at all like his own thicker, callused hands. It’s not the stretch he needs, not yet, but the fact that it’s someone else’s hand sends a shiver of heat through him that swells to a flame when Mercedes lowers her head again to lick at his cock. That elicits a strangled moan and an involuntary arch of the back, pushing his pussy further onto her fingers, though this time she just hums rather than telling him off, so maybe it’s okay?

Then she sucks at him, and all thought of how to be good, or how vulnerable he is, or anything else flies out the window in the face of the wet heat of her mouth. Sylvain twists and moans again, his hand grasping instinctively for her hair before he remembers that she might not like that, but she tilts her head towards the touch as though inviting it, so he settles it down and earns another pleased hum. It’s so soft beneath his hand, almost like silk, despite the way it tangles when he spasms and grips it harder.

If it hurts Mercedes, she doesn’t let on, only sucks again as her fingers sink in deep and curl inside him. Her touch is so gentle as she explores him, but thorough and firm, too. It feels like there’s something she’s looking for, though Sylvain’s not sure what that could be until she nudges at a spot that sends a spark of pleasure up his spine. He moans, shuddering, and so she does it again, and again, until Sylvain is a trembling mess. Tremors course through his legs in waves, and he’s trying so hard not to tug at Mercedes’ hair, but it’s difficult when everything just feels so fucking _good_.

“Mercie,” he gasps. “I can’t- I’m gonna…”

Another hum. Mercedes looks up at him, and he can swear he sees her smile even with her mouth occupied, even with his thighs pressing up against either side of her head. And then she rubs that one spot harder while sucking at him, and Sylvain can’t hold back any more; he rides out the shuddering, full-body wash of pleasure with a moan that’s probably loud enough to be heard from the hall. Mercedes doesn’t stop, just keeps going until Sylvain uses his grip on her hair to nudge her gently back when the pleasure threatens to tip over into something he can’t handle. Her face- already radiant- glimmers in the light from the fireplace, and goddess, her cheeks are covered in his slick.

“Fuck,” Sylvain breathes, watching wide-eyed as she swipes two fingers through the mess and touches them to her tongue. “Fuck, I- Mercie…”

“Was that my name, or a plea?” Mercedes’ smile has a slight, teasing twist upwards at one side. She pushes herself up, crawling forwards and over Sylvain’s leg to snuggle up against his side, and when she holds out an inviting arm, he rolls over and into her embrace. The fingers of her dry hand stroke gently through his hair, while the others settle on his shoulder, and Sylvain shivers to feel his own slick against his skin. Though it’s not like there’s a shortage of that, really- his thighs are an absolute mess, from the feel of it. “Good boy,” Mercedes murmurs, tugging his head gently forward to rest against her chest, which is every bit as soft and warm as he’d imagined.

Sylvain shivers again and nuzzles up against her, feeling the rabbit-quick thump of his heart slowly beginning to settle inside his own chest. He’s never in his life felt so vulnerable, or so safe. “Thank you,” he says eventually, when words are a thing his brain and mouth can master again.

“Thank you,” Mercedes tells him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You did so beautifully for me. And you taste so good.”

Sylvain flushes, but cranes his head back with a question he’s not sure how to pose. Luckily, Mercedes seems to guess what it is he’s after; she twines her fingers in his hair, tugging his head to where she can lean down and kiss him, slow and deep, with the taste of salt and slick on her tongue as it moves against Sylvain’s. He moans into her mouth, cock and pussy throbbing and leaking still more slick out over his thigh as he presses himself closer.

“Want you,” he says, when they eventually break apart for air. “Want you inside me, please.”

“Oh? You’re sure you’re not too sensitive?”

Sylvain shakes his head no. “I’m good. I can take it, I promise.”

“I never doubted that,” Mercedes says, her gaze soft and searching as she cards her fingers through his hair again. “Not for a second. But I want to make sure it feels good for you, and that you’re not just doing it for me.”

“Wasn’t anywhere near you last night,” Sylvain murmurs. “Still came pretending the dildo was your knot inside me.”

Mercedes’ eyes widen, and Sylvain is gratified to see her pupils dilate, just a little. He can’t tell what her cock is doing right now, not with all those layers of skirts in between them, but here’s hoping he’ll find out soon. “Oh, you are a delight, aren’t you?” she says, pushing him over onto his back. Sylvain goes willingly, watching with a dry mouth and sopping wet pussy as her deft fingers undo her belt and toss it lightly to the side.

“Can I help?” he asks. He wants to be good, yes, but he’d also very much like to get his hands on her, to get the layers of skirts and petticoats out of the way and feel his alpha’s skin on his own at last.

“Of course.” She reaches down to guide his hands under her overskirt, and he surges up to push it up and over her head. It catches at her chest, and he allows himself a moment to stare at the way it tugs her tits upward beneath her shirt before pulling free. Mercedes keeps her arms raised, and he reaches out to take her petticoats in hand, too. His knuckles brush against her bare thigh, and even now, with his slick coating her face, that somehow feels filthier than anything they’ve done yet. The fine hairs stroke against his skin as he lifts the layers up, and his mind judders to a halt when Mercedes shifts her weight down to rest her thighs against his.

“Fuck, Mercie,” he breathes. He’s never been very good at the whole praying thing, but he thinks he could manage it here, now. For her. Especially when she’s smiling at him like that, even as she wriggles a little to help him lift the petticoats up and off her. Even more so for the way her breasts shake with the motion.

And her laugh. Seiros, her laugh. “We haven’t even started on that part yet,” she reminds him, as his hands come back up to hover somewhere around her waist before settling there, just below the lovely heaviness of her chest. Fuck, she’s naked. He’s naked. They’re both- they’re doing this. His thoughts threaten to spiral away from him for a moment before her hands come to settle on his forearms. “I mean, if you’d still like to?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t even have to think about that part. In fact, if he can keep on not thinking and ignoring the voice in the back of his head that insists on wrecking every good thing he gets his hands on before they wreck him, this just might work.

“Good. Hands here, then.” She moves his arms gently up so that his hands are gently cupping her tits, and for a moment Sylvain feels like he might just expire on the spot. They’re so _soft_. So warm, and so perfect against the palms of his hands when he rounds them properly over them. He looks up at her face and is met with an encouraging smile, so he tries a gentle squeeze, which prompts a quiet moan. He does it again, shifting his grip to stroke his thumbs lightly over the goose-pimpled skin.


	6. Chapter 6

Mercedes rocks her hips ever so slightly atop him, and it’s all he can do not to keen at the feeling of her heat pressing down against his hips, his dick, his pussy. “Feels good, Sylvie,” she tells him. “You have such nice hands.”

Sylvain bites his lip, stroking one thumb, then the other over her skin, biting his lip as he considers how to ask the question. Eventually, his brain throws in the towel on the language skills front, leaving him with “Can I…with my mouth?”

Another soft laugh and Mercedes leans in closer. “Please do,” she murmurs, stroking a hand through Sylvain’s hair as she shuffles a bit further up. Sylvain arches up towards her like a man at prayer, like a penitent seeking salvation, pressing his lips to the skin right where the weight of her breasts begins to sag down from her chest. Mercedes hums, and he does it again, and again, kissing every inch within reach while his pussy leaks helplessly onto the sheets.

“Such a good boy,” she tells him, her hand shifting round to cup the back of his head. Sylvain whimpers, achingly turned on and profoundly, strangely safe in a way being in bed with someone has never felt. The weight of her breasts, the softness of the skin around her waist as his hand sinks between the gentle rolls there, the sweet floral scent of her, everything is perfect. Everything about her is perfect. He kind of wants to stay like this forever, he muses, as he takes her nipple into his mouth and sucks gently. Mercedes gasps softly atop him, grinding down and back against his cock and making Sylvain moan back. Everything he wants, everything he needs, is right here.

His free hand keeps stroking her other breast, his grip tightening just a little as he lets himself think about the future. If she does ever knock him up. Female alphas can make milk, right? They could feed each other, and the baby. He could suckle at her. Call it practice for the real thing. He thinks he’d like that. Or to have her feeding from him, making her soft curves softer and rounder still.

His pussy clenches again, a thick glob of slick dripping out from it. He can’t properly see Mercedes’ face from here, but he hears the sudden intake of breath, feels the way she ruts up against his abs. “Would you like more, baby? You want me inside you?”

Sylvain moans at the thought alone. “Yes,” he gasps, breaking away from her nipple just long enough to plead. “Want you. Want your knot so bad, please.”

“Oh, you ask so prettily.” Mercedes smiles down at him, her hair haloing around her face in the firelight. She looks like the goddess herself, and Sylvain can’t help but inch his legs further apart as she shuffles back, her hand pressing lightly against his shoulder for balance. “Good boy. You’re going to feel so good around me, I can tell.”

She crawls back until she’s down between his legs, and brings her hand down to run her fingertips ever so lightly against his pussy. Sylvain whimpers and bucks against the touch in an attempt to push them in deeper, but then he catches a glimpse of Mercedes’ cock- fully erect now, with a pearlescent sheen of cum beading at the tip, and he knows fingers aren’t gonna cut it this time around. “Yeah. I’ll- I’ll be good. I promise.”

“I know you will, Sylvie. I’ve got you.” She rubs her hand gently up his inner thigh, drawing a shiver from him that becomes a full-body tremble as she moves up to stroke at his cock. Then the head of her cock is pressing up against him, and Sylvain’s breath catches. This is- this feels like the point of no return, somehow. Like taking a leap into the unknown, for all that he’s shoved a dildo up there plenty of times before. Mercedes looks up, her gaze gentle, as if she knows the faint panic lurking there in Sylvain’s head. “If you need me to stop at any point, please do tell me. Okay?”

Sylvain nods. “I will. Just- please.”

“I’ve got you, baby boy,” Mercedes assures him, still watching him carefully, gently, proudly, even, as she pushes in that much deeper. Sylvain moans, his hands twisting in the sheets as her cock splits him open, inch by inch. And this- this is what he’s needed all along. What he’s wanted. This perfect fullness. It feels almost too much, and he shuts his eyes as if that’ll make everything less intense, less real somehow.

“Sylvie?” He opens his eyes; the look on Mercedes’ face has shifted to concern. “Is everything alright.”

“Yeah,” Sylvain breathes. “Fuck, yes. Everything… everything’s perfect. So good, Mercie.”

The concern melts away to be replaced with a radiant smile, and she reaches up to stroke a hand over his cheek. “I’m so glad. I’m just going to wait here a moment, okay? When you’re ready for me to move, let me know.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say now, now please, fuck me, but he wants to be good. And if he’s being truthful with himself- which he rarely ever is, but now seems like a good time- this is a lot to take in. She’s bigger than his usual dildo, and the subtle shifts of her, the way he can’t predict what’s about to happen the way he’d be able to if he were holding a toy, are kind of overwhelming. He feels stupid for it, he’s an omega after all, taking an alpha is supposed to be as natural as breathing, but when he looks up at her he’s met with nothing but softness, nothing but understanding.

And he can breathe, in a way he’s never been able to with anyone else before. Can feel the way the air rolls into his lungs, the feel of it harmonising with the shivers of pleasure and fullness from further down. He feels alive in a way he can only remember feeling a handful of times, settled in his body and cradled there. After several long moments, he nods. “Please. Want you.”

“Alright. I’ve got you, Sylvain.” Mercedes pulls back and pushes in again, and Sylvain’s back arches as he lets out a shuddering sigh.

“Yes,” he breathes, fire coiling in his belly and pussy from the friction. “Yes, Mercie, please- ahhn!”

She does it again, and again, her hips building into a slow rhythm as her skin presses against his and pulls away. He hitches his legs up around her, wanting her closer, wanting to push up against her and into her the way she’s sinking into him, and her hands settle on his waist, holding him with a firmness that her usual soft touch belies. A moan falls from her lips and he returns it; it feels like they’ve become one, as cliched as that sounds. Like between the push-pull of their muscles, their skin, their sweat, there’s something deeper shifting and waking up.

Or maybe that’s just the orgasm he’s teetering at the edge of, getting closer and closer as the base of Mercedes’ cock swells against his rim. “Mercie,” he gasps. “Can I- I wanna-” he reaches down between them, to where his own cock is swollen and aching from the press of her belly. He’s heard of alphas insisting that omegas should come on knots alone, but Mercedes just nods and shifts to sit up a little more.

“There you go,” she tells him, as he strokes his cock, whimpering. “Such a good boy for me. Are you going to- to cum for me, Sylvie? You going to make yourself feel good?”

He doesn’t need much in the way of persuasion, not now. Before long he’s shuddering, moaning, cumming hard and clenching tight around her with a wordless cry. Mercedes moans back at him, thrusting in and sending shock after shock through him until he feels a sudden surge of wet heat inside. For a moment his brain skips away to another time, when she’s not on birth control and her babies can take root in his womb the way he so desperately wants and fears at once, but his overtaxed brain lets the thought slip in favour of clutching at his alpha.

Mercedes nuzzles at him, covering his chest and shoulders with kisses. “My Sylvie,” she murmurs. “Such a good boy. So good for me, you did so well.”

Sylvain shivers, wrapping his arms tightly around her and craning his neck up to kiss the top of her head. Her hair tickles where it comes to rest against him, but it feels good. Grounding, as his mind slowly settles back into his wrung-out body. Seiros, he feels so sweaty and so full. The sweet nothings after sex are usually his job, but right now, words are very much beyond his reach. His mind can’t manage any thoughts beyond ‘alpha, mate, yes, good’ and the bone-deep urge to wrap around her.

Mercedes runs her hands up his sides, down over his hips to stroke over his ass, everywhere his muscles are trembling through the aftershocks. Her words become a litany, a drumbeat of Sylvain’s goodness, his handsomeness, so steady and unrelenting he can almost let himself believe it. The soft weight of her body atop him feels safe and strangely comfy despite the thin sheen of sweat beneath them, and he raises a shaky hand to card his fingers through her hair. Mercedes hums in response, nuzzling against the touch, and Sylvain feels a spark of warmth in his chest.

“Thank you,” he says, once his brain has reformed enough to manage words again.

“It was my absolute pleasure,” Mercedes tells him, the edge of her lip quirking up at the double meaning. “Thank you, Sylvain. That was wonderful. You were even better than I’d dreamed.”

Of course, after being eaten out and fucked, this is what brings a flush to Sylvain’s cheeks. “You… dreamed about me?”

“Oh yes. I used to watch you train- the way your muscles moved was always so lovely. And I’ll admit, I did wonder how some of your, ah, noises would sound in a different context.”

Sylvain grins. “And? What’s the verdict on that one?”

“They’re wonderful,” Mercedes tells him, leaning up to kiss him full on the mouth. “Magnificent. Although now I find myself with the problem of wanting to get you to make more.”

“Well,” Sylvain says slowly. This would normally be the part where he makes his excuses and runs, and there’s a little frisson of nervousness at the idea of not doing that, but. He wants. “I mean. I’m gonna be around a while. And I’m not gonna lie, I kinda wanna hear more of what you sound like, too.”

Mercedes beams at him. “It’s a date, then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a date.”


End file.
